A day in the cold.
Yurich trudged through the thick winter snow, holding his modified AK-74M. Wearing his trusty thick green coat, his beenie, camouflaged trousers and muddy leather boots, he walked towards a Stalker camp in a nearby warehouse he had heard rumours of.
After 20 minutes of walking, he reached the warehouse which has been mentioned in whispers around the Zone.
A Stalker wearing an Exo Skeleton stood at the entrance, no mask, a small mohican and a bulky AK-47.
"Business, Stalker?" The Stalker queried.
"I want to rest, I mean no harm." Yurich replied, shivering slightly in the freezing Ukrainian winter.
Yurich gazed inside, envying the mixed bunch of Stalkers and Mercenaries gathered around several camp fires and salvaged sofas.
"Alright." The guard said, pitying Yurich. "You can go in, but if you cause trouble you're out."
"Thanks." Yurich replied happily, grateful of being allowed the safe haven of the warehouse.
He trudged into the warehouse, through the doorway absent of a door. Yurich slung his Ak, not to arouse any tensions or suspicions.
Yurich found a spot next what seemed like a friendly group of Stalkers. He sat onto a flattened carboard box, like the others, and warmed his hands.
The Stalkers welcomed Yurich, they shared stories of happiness and comedy; trying to keep their minds away from the cold and harshness of the Zone.
A lone Stalker stood in the corner,wearing a black leather trenchcoat, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigar. An SVD stood against the wall close to the man.
"What's the deal with that guy?" Yurich queried to the other Stalkers, pointing to the man in the corner.
The laughter stopped, and a Stalker replied:
"No one knows, I doubt anyone cares. Looks like a bandit to me."
"Hm." Yurich replied, not showing much enthusiasm whilst gazing at the man.
***
The day continued, weirdly without any hitches or engagements including the people in the warehouse, possibly because it was so cold outside.
Thankfully, the warehouse would be where Yurich would return to after performing tasks for some fat bastard trader, or scavenge the garbage for anything of value.